Of Method and Madness
by FoundNLost
Summary: A Harley Quinn Fic. Contains journal entries showing her descent into madness and present day material of Harleen trying to get her life back on track. A disturbing look at love and rationality. H&J Rated M because I want the opportunity to make it semi realistic.
1. Chapter 1

I had not lied to Dr. Leeland; I am attracted to strong personalities. The stronger, the more sensational, the better. One of these patients in Arkham Asylum is going to be my golden goose. With a particularly difficult case of insanity rehabilitated under my influence, I will finish my internship, get my doctorate, publish my findings, and easily become a recognizable figure in the psychiatric field. The perfect candidate presented himself on my very first day; patient 4479, the Joker. He is Batman's arch nemesis, infamous, and if I could cure him I would be set for life. It took me nearly three months to set up a session. I have studied all of his tricks and gimmicks, and feel I am ready for anything.

One of my premises is that the clinically insane are very similar in nature to children. Many aspects of their behavior are simply bad habits that have gone uncorrected, forming a rut in their mind that they are unable or unwilling to overcome. The pattern, once established, becomes a fixture of how they view the world around them, and simply explaining or showing the subject the error of their belief will only strengthen the mental grip on it. My approach is a classic technique of allowing the patient to tell me what he thinks and understands about the world. From there I hope to aid his growth into a more rational standpoint using his own views.

The story that patient has spun for me is incredible. An abusive, drunken father and a little boy who only wanted to make his dad proud. Yet somehow, he has me laughing at the tragic tale, using laughter to cure the heartache. It is becoming clear to me the Joker, so often described as a raving, homicidal madman...is actually a tortured soul crying out for love and acceptance. A lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics. Yet there, as always, is the self-righteous Batman, determined to make life miserable for Mister J. Yes, I admit it. As unprofessional as it sounds, I have developed certain _feelings_ for my patient.

Perhaps it is just as the Joker said to me as I confessed my affection for him, that I have been career-oriented for so long that I have completely repressed my inner child. It's perfectly natural for me to fall for a man who can make me laugh, make me remember what it means to have fun. Somehow, I have deviated from my original goal, and allowed him to draw me out as I tried to draw him. If I remain in control and allow things to go no further, there should be no conflict of interests and I can continue my research.

-From the notes of Dr. Harleen Quinzel

* * *

The lid of her travel trunk snapped closed and Harley locked it. How many years had it been? She wasn't sure, but the trunk seemed free of the weight they had carried. Lifting it off the bed, she carried it to the waiting taxi. Many times before she had left him. There was the time he had sacked her, and another time when she decided to strike out on her own and form a gang of her own. But no matter how many times she had left, Harley had always returned. This time was different, though. She was leaving Gotham, leaving Harley Quinn behind, not only going straight, but also going normal. Getting onto the 9 o'clock train to Metropolis was perhaps the hardest thing she had ever done. No tears fell as it pulled out of the station and as she looked back on the city she knew so well, she said goodbye to her past.

Part of her wanted to rage, to fight for her Mister J, go back, and find a way to keep him for her very own. A hundred different ways she had tried to catch and keep the Joker's attention. One day a year was all she asked for really, if nothing else. Today was yet again the anniversary of the day they met, but no acknowledgement was given to it. The focus, as ever, was on Batman. Harleen understood and accepted the Joker's obsession with the Bat, it was his defining purpose in life. However, she still found herself feeling like a scorned wife while Joker cheated with his mistress. All attention, devotion, and time was spent on schemes and plans to capture the attention of his enemy, but not a thought was spared for her anymore. She would always love him, but there was only so much the heart could take.

Harleen slept fitfully and when she awoke, the train had stopped. She resolved to leave the past behind her where it belonged. Before her was a new city, a new life. Now was the time to prove her worth in the real world. Metropolis was just as impressive as Gotham, if slightly cleaner. It was a new city with its own heroes and villains, but she would stay out of their affairs and they would fail to notice her very average presence. From the station, she took another taxi to a decent apartment complex, one rather cheap but still away from the dangerous parts of town.

Unpacking took a matter of minutes and while the place was pretty bare, Harleen felt hope rise in her as she looked it over. Here was a place that belonged to her - a home of her own. It had been far too long since she had been truly independent. Perhaps she was broken on the inside, maybe she didn't have the best record, but she could still start over and get her life back on the track that it was meant to be. There was no reason for her to be a criminal. She had no tragic past, no resentment of society, and all of her bad habits could be broken. Tomorrow she would find a community college, finish her degree, and maybe even find an honest job.

And if her heart, like the apartment, felt a little hollow on the inside… well soon it would be full of the pleasures of a normal life.


	2. Chapter 2

My feelings have developed to an irrational level, but I persist with my observations. Feeding into patient 4479's delusion, I outfitted myself as a black and red "Harley Quinn" and released him from the Asylum. I could see no other way to properly understand, and therefore cure, the delusions that have persisted. I have insinuated to him, and to the world at large, that my affections have driven me to be as mad as the object of them. However, I know the Joker does not love me back and that he is simply using me to achieve his own goals. What is love but two people using and manipulating each other to find happiness? The Joker's view is that everyone is simply "one bad day" away from insanity. I do not agree with this hypothesis, but reaching out and taking what you want, whenever you want it, is quite intoxicating. This childlike behavior needs to be curtailed before thought that is more rational will occur.

I have participated in several criminal excursions now, and believe that I am on my way down the right path for curing Mister J. If nothing else, I have gained his trust with my actions, which will allow me later to persuade him of the error of his ways. The Joker is however, much more complicated than I originally gave him credit for. Today he pushed me out of a window for successfully capturing Batman. He claims that I "didn't get the joke." At first, I was alarmed and upset, but now it is clear that he knows that I am continuing my research. I think he proposes to give me the look inside of his head that I so desire. If I survive, I will understand him completely. In a way, his unbalanced actions are ….sweet.

-From the notes of Dr. Harleen Quinzel

* * *

"$440 bucks per credit hour!" Harleen exclaimed. "No way it cost this much, you have got to be kidding me, right?" The registrar looked disapprovingly over his glasses. Her indignation rose as the man looked her over and found her lacking. "I'm afraid not miss. If you want to head over to financial aid they may be able to help you work out a payment plan." Harleen clenched her hands into fists.

"Looky here bucko…" She took a deep breath and forced her hands open. In a fluid motion, she slammed them, palms down, onto the desk causing the registrar to jump. Harleen put a polite smile on her face. "Look sir," She said in a more refrained tone. "You have my application there. I was top of my class for two years, got an internship at an outstanding asylum, and I scored top marks on your placement test. So don'tcha think I could get a scholarship or something?"

The man sighed and shuffled the papers on his desk. "It really isn't my place to say so miss, but your credentials are a bit out of date. If perhaps you spent the last several years working at this asylum something could possibly be arranged, but as it is you'll still need to pay most of your class expenses." Harleen let out a groan of pure frustration. Her first goal and already she had hit a road block. Things had never been this hard with _him. _Maybe if she ruffed the man up a bit he'd see things her way. She ran a hand through her hair and signed. _That _sort of behavior is exactly what she was trying to fix.

"Perhaps," He started hesitantly, "you should return to your previous line of work, whatever that may have been, and save up for classes. It will take you a bit longer but you could save up for each semester in advanced." Harleen snorted at the irony. Of course the only way to go forward would be to go back. She stormed out of the office and off the campus grounds.


	3. Chapter 3

I think I understand the joke now. It has been a year since I fell for Mister J. Perhaps it was not rational, but I cannot make myself regret the outcome. I am no closer to curing him than I ever was; if anything, I believe he's corrupting me. I haven't been happier, and I don't think I ever want my angel to change. He may seem the perfect example of an abusive boyfriend, but I feel a very childlike amazement as I view the world as he sees it. Joker will never kill the Bat. It's an endless dance of cat and mouse, a game that he will never lose. Even if Batman ends his life, my angel will still be the winner. Either he keeps playing with the Bat or he drives Batman to his level. The greatest joke ever made. I am in awe. This isn't madness but a very complex plan to prove a point. We're all mad here.

-From the notes of Dr. Harleen Quinzel

* * *

After two weeks of searching she managed to get a legitimate job as a waitress at a dinner. It wasn't the most glamorous job, but it was work and it paid the bills. What didn't go to keep her in house and board, she put away for classes. The one thing she allowed herself to splurge on was a gym membership. Exercising late at night after her shift at the dinner let her blow off steam from putting up with people all day. And to be honest, she felt restless at night, like she should be out doing _something_.

_ Of course, most things I did at night weren't legal. _So to keep herself busy she ran the treadmill, hit the punching bags, and lifted the hand weights. She was surprised to find that after a few weeks, it felt like more effort not less to do the same amount of exercise as she had started doing. _Maybe I'm over doing it? _She wondered, rubbing her sore arm muscles as she walked back to her apartment.

A hand jerked her roughly into a side ally, and she felt a knife against her throat. It happened so suddenly that she froze, not quite sure what was going on. A gruff voice by her right ear, with breath that smelled strongly of alcohol said, "Don't scream or I'll cut your pretty little throat. Got me girl?" She nodded still in shock. It had been years since she had to fear the night, usually it was the night that feared her.

She felt a hand pull her bag off her shoulder; the knife against her neck slipped a little as the man grunted at the unexpected weight of it. Taking her chance and moving out of reflex, she dropped to the ground and swept a leg out, effectively knocking the would be robber off of his feet. She grabbed her fallen bag and began running as hard and fast as she can, the adrenaline rush allowing her to forget her previous fatigue.

Harleen didn't stop until she was safely behind her locked apartment door. Breathing heavily she felt a pain in her side that she hadn't felt in years. A stinging feeling on her neck caused her to flinch whenever her head moved too sharply. She slowly walked to her bathroom, and turning on the bright light she saw that the man had managed to cut her… And it actually hurt. In fact all of her was aching now that the threat was dealt with.

_What's going on? I've taken plenty of worse hits than this!_ She pulled out her minimal first aid kit and began cleaning her cut. _Heck Mister…. _HE _put me through a wall a couple of times and it didn't actually hurt like this little thing does._ By the time she had put a simple Band-Aid on her neck she felt calmer and more rational. Getting into her small shower she began to clean up. For a moment she just let the hot water relax her. Then out of nowhere an idea came to her. _I wonder…_ "He used to hit me and I was just about the only person he touched casually…" She began to reason things out loud, though her words were swept away with the falling water. "Skin to skin contact on a consistent basis, who would notice?" _There were numerous times he touched my face, or held my hand, or let me hang on him…Moments I used to treasure… But how much of that was really the indulgence I used to believe it to be? _She shut off the water and started to dry her tired body as her mind raced with possibilities. "He's survived many things that would have killed a normal person. In fact… The longer I stayed with him the better I got at taking hits too."

She worked her way into the bedroom and climbed into the clean sheets. After the stress of the night she should have fallen asleep instantly, but she felt like she was fitting pieces into a puzzle and couldn't let it go. _Was it's a drug? Something administered through skin contact like a lotion. _The idea of the Joker putting on lotion didn't fit her image of him. _Or maybe… Maybe whatever it is that makes him, him… Maybe it is just him? Like his sweat, or just something about his skin and what makes him look the way he does. _

Her thoughts began to grow fuzzy despite herself. _I bet he knew about it. I bet he did it on purpose. Justifying his behavior, or just finding it funny to hurt and to help._ "The bastard." As she drifted off, Harleen felt like today had been good progress. It wasn't too long ago she'd have thought that sort of duality from him a sign he cared. _And I didn't even kill the bozo in the alley._


End file.
